5/13/11 Zanzibar – Hakuna Matata

Today has been extremely long. We woke early to board the boat. Ok, let me rephrase that. We woke at 6:45am to be ready for breakfast at 7:30. We left at 8:30am (surprisingly on time) to be at the shore at 9:00am for the 9:30 boat. The boat, in Tanzanian fashion, did not leave until at least 10:30. We woke early to sit at the docks – which was altogether lovely. People watching is wonderful here. I wonder where the women are going with their children. Some men appear to be waiting idly. Are people going to work via ferry? I don’t know, but it is wonderful.

We practice Swahili with one another and fellow passengers. Moja, mbili, tatu, nne, . . . Jina langu ni Amber . . . Ni bei gani?

Aboard the boat, wait, no. Boarding the boat. This was an experience of a lifetime. Hundreds of people, of which 75% don’t heed to the concept of a queue, boarding a boat (with tickets and luggage). Wow. That personal space issue of mine, VIOLATED! People push not with hands and elbows, but with their entire bodies. Crammed and chaos are words that don’t capture this experience wholly. No politeness, no fear of being rude – must be assertive. Dr. Lewis whispers back at us, “Just push through.” (And keep your bags with you.)

Now, aboard the boat (phew!) we settle and enjoy the amazing view of the ocean and city. And we wait. At some point the boat leaves port. The wind that accompanies the “fast ferry” is heaven sent. I have been sweating like crazy. The sun is bright today, but so nice. Reapplying sunscreen is necessary but seems futile with my perspiration. More Swahili practice and rest until we arrive in Zanzibar.

(Side note: I’d forgotten how well a bra doubles as a travel wallet. Or in my case a midsized travel handbag. Very convenient for inconspicuously stowing a passport.)

Zanzibar – spice island, the land of hakuna matata – is paradise. Hot, steamy, muggy paradise. The port from sea is beautiful. The streets are narrow, the people friendly (catering to tourists, of course). Our hotel is (OMG) luxurious. There is hot water (which I will probably not use due to this heat!), true canopy beds serve as mosquito nets, a couch, a minibar filled with water and sodas, beautiful carved furniture that my mother would kill for. This is vacation. This is vacation of which I am not accustomed.

After lunch on the rooftop restaurant, we begin our city tour. Through the narrow streets we avoid bikes and motorcycles as we learn about the intricate doors of Zanzibar – some Indian, some Arabic, all stunning. We make our way through the food fragrant streets to the Anglican Church – the site of the former slave market. We sit in the small space – a dungeon, really – where slaves were kept before they were sent to market. It is hot; it is uncomfortable; it is damp and dark. There are 3 slits in the wall for ventilation – largely useless. And we were not in chains, we had space between us, we were free to leave, we were not scared and tortured and debased.

We heard how the slaves were brought on foot to be held here for 2 days. We heard how they were then taken to market and whipped with sting ray tails to show their strength – strong slaves did not cry out or wince and were more valuable. We were told how men and women were separated and children sometimes killed. We were told how – to show how guns worked – 10 or so people would be lined up and killed before they left villages for the caravan. We were told how slaves from different villages were clumped together because they did not have a common language, thus decreasing the likelihood of revolt. We were told how some preferred suicide to this torturous existence. Atrocities. Atrocities that only ended in 1907! 1907. We are not so far removed from this time. (Also, we spoke of Dr. Livingstone)

And then, the “House of Wonders” – a museum once a place of ceremony for the Sultan of Zanzibar. The best part of this museum is the view from the wrap around balcony on the third floor. Ocean, buildings, people. Beauty.

Sitting (finally!) in the park – accosted by tourist-preying vendors – the bustle of evening is joyful. People walking, selling food, sitting with friends , family (still largely segregated by gender), kids playing soccer. Lovely. And cool, at last.

Dinner – Indian (was ok) – and home for a much needed shower. A long day filled with beauty and an absolute “hakuna matata” feel. Now sleep.

(In case there are misunderstandings, most buildings remain in disrepair. The gorgeous carved mahogany doors are often cracked and unkempt. Doors are ajar and home life shared with all, people coming and going, women washing, children running. Mosquitoes are present. Children and alley cats roam free.)